Finding a Place
by TXMedic
Summary: David wonders where he fits in among the other newsies. Complete.


~The characters of "Newsies" belong to Disney. No profit is made. (I wish.) This is set between the movie and "Race to the Finish".~  
  
~~~~~***~~~~~  
  
FINDING A PLACE  
  
Bored with watching Jack teach his little brother Les a new rope trick, David Jacobs let his eyes and mind wander. He rubbed at the sweat tickling the hairs on the back of his neck and wondered if it could possibly be any hotter. Taking a few steps away from the pair, a safe distance from Les' attempts at the new rope trick, Dave sat down on the curb to watch the people around him.  
  
It was a rare moment of idleness for the gathered crowd of newsies. They were finished with the morning edition, and waiting for the bell to ring that signaled the arrival of the afternoon papers. Dave silently concluded that the paper barons would save a lot of money, if they'd cut down on the extra editions.  
  
Since becoming a newsie, most of his time had been spent fighting for their strike. It had only been a week since they'd managed a small victory. The price hadn't been lowered, but at least they could get their money back for any unsold papers. It was a moral victory, but they'd take what they could get. For the first time, Dave found himself with time to simply observe his new friends.  
  
Seeking out the ones he knew best, Dave smiled. He knew if he found Mush, he'd find Kid Blink. The two were rarely separated from each other. It was almost as if they were brothers. He wondered how the two had become such good friends.  
  
Blink and Mush had their heads close together as they stood by the statue of old Horace Greeley. They would occasionally glance over at the group of newsies crouched over a game of marbles, then turn back to each other to continue their rather heated discussion. All of which made David very curious as to what the two were plotting.  
  
Switching his attention to the marble game, he wondered which newsie was the object of the discussion. Two of the younger newsies-he couldn't quite remember their names-were calculating how many marbles they had left, as Snipeshooter bent down nearly nose to cobblestone to line up his next shot. Race was patiently waiting next to him, chin resting on one bent knee, a smug look on his face.  
  
Dave couldn't tell why Race would have such a look, since his pile of marbles seemed to be the smallest. Snipeshooter appeared to be the odds-on favorite in the game, since he had a growing number of marbles sitting next to him. Sure enough, his shooter struck several smaller marbles and knocked them outside the crude circle drawn on the dirty cobblestones. The two smaller boys groaned at the loss as Snipeshooter, laughing at their consternation, gathered up the displaced marbles. Once again, he leaned down to set up his shot then let fly with his shooter. And missed.  
  
With bad grace, Snipeshooter nodded that it was now Race's turn. The wiry young Italian leaned closer and with a seemingly negligent flick of his thumb, sent his shooter sailing into a group of marbles. Four were knocked outside the circle. All three boys moaned in disappointment and Race set up his next shot. Racetrack managed five good shots in a row before he missed and the turn passed to the small boy with blond curls.  
  
After watching the younger boy shoot once or twice, Dave glanced once more at Racetrack's pile of marbles. It hadn't grown. Frowning in puzzlement, he looked up to see the same smug look plastered to Race's face.  
  
The shuffling of feet made him glance up as Jack sat down beside him. "Whatchya doin'?"  
  
"Watching the guys shoot marbles, but I can't figure it out."  
  
Glancing at the four boys huddled over a circle of marbles, Jack smiled. "Can't figure out what?"  
  
"Race just won about ten marbles, but his pile isn't any bigger than it was before. And I can't figure out why he looks so darn smug when Snipeshooter is winning."  
  
"Snipeshooter ain't winnin' as much as he thinks he is. For every three marbles he wins, Race steals one."  
  
Still puzzled, Dave rubbed the sweat from his forehead and shook his head. "If he's cheating, how come he doesn't seem to have any more marbles than before?"  
  
"Because when the others aren't looking, he slips some marbles in the other kids' piles. DJ and Jackrabbit ain't so good at that game, but they never seem to learn not to play with Snipeshooter." Shrugging, Jack acknowledged that he didn't really understand it either.  
  
"Race makes sure the little ones don't lose all their marbles, while at the same time getting a kick out of stealing from Snipes. I dunno. I can't explain those two. They've done nothing but bicker with each other since Snipes came to the Lodgin' House. You'd think they was brothers or somethin'."  
  
It really was interesting, the way the boys all interacted with each other. Dave envied them that closeness. A closeness, as an outsider, that he'd never quite achieve. Shifting his gaze once again to Mush and Blink, he smiled. The two were still arguing, though it seemed Blink was about to declare victory. Shaking his head, he folded his arms and stared Mush down. With a defeated sigh, Mush nodded.  
  
Staring at the marble players-it was once again Race's turn-Mush wavered a moment then smiled. The smile grew as he reached into his back pocket and pulled out a slingshot. Retrieving one of his own marbles from another pocket, he lined up his shot. Just as Race bent over to line up his shot.  
  
Race's shooter sailed straight and true. So did Mush's. With a yelp, Race sat bolt upright and reached around to rub the sore spot on his rear end while looking around wildly to find the culprit. Spotting the telltale slingshot dangling from Mush's hand as the younger boy doubled over in laughter, Race jumped to his feet and ran after him.  
  
Bracing himself with one arm, Jack leaned over and laughed until he had tears in his eyes. Chaos erupted in the courtyard outside The World's distribution gates as newsboys began yelling and cheering, egging Race on in his single-minded goal of soaking Mush.  
  
Well, not really. Knowing full well that Racetrack would never hurt him, Mush could hardly run for laughing. The only thing that kept him one step ahead of Race, was the fact that his smaller friend was laughing just as hard.  
  
"Just you wait, Mush. I'll take that slingshot and shove it right up your- ."  
  
A sudden increase in the cacophony of noise drowned out the rest of Racetrack's threat, but Dave had a pretty good idea where Race was going with it.  
  
"You gotta catch me first, Race!"  
  
As the two neared Kid Blink, Mush ducked behind his friend and tried to use him as a human shield. Race slid to a stop in front of the two and tried to get around Blink to get to Mush. All three were laughing so hard at this point, that Race was getting nowhere. With a sly smirk that should've warned the other two, Racetrack knelt and grabbed Mush's ankle.  
  
A sudden jerk on his ankle made Mush yelp in surprise just before he landed on his backside onto the cobblestones. He accidentally kicked out with his other foot, knocking Blink's legs out from under him. Mush's breath was knocked out with a whoosh as his friend landed on top of him. Race piled onto the other two and it was suddenly a free-for-all wrestling match.  
  
"My money's on Race."  
  
Smiling as Jack wiped tears of laughter from his face, Dave shook his head. "Blink's bigger."  
  
"Yeah, but Race is quicker. He's hard to pin down."  
  
Sure enough, Kid Blink was unable to dislodge the smaller newsie and Mush was effectively pinned to the ground by the other two boys' weight. Raising his arms in victory, Race announced himself the winner.  
  
Rolling off Blink, Race lay on the cobblestones, laughing and holding his aching sides. His laughter was infectious, and soon the courtyard was filled with the sound of newsies sharing in the lighthearted moment.  
  
Feeling slightly wistful at something he'd never be a true part of, David watched the three friends with a pang of envy. Shaking it off, he shot Jack a questioning look. "Those three seem closer than any of the others. Did they all come here at the same time?"  
  
Tilting his head to one side, Jack stared off into space for a moment as he tried to remember. "Nah. Mush and Blink showed up the same week, but Race was already livin' at the Lodgin' House by then. I guess Mush and Blink became so close out of self-defense."  
  
"Self-defense?"  
  
Resting his arms on his knees, Jack squinted against the sunlight. "I've only been the leader for two years, Dave. There was another boy before me named Dodger."  
  
"The Artful Dodger?" Dave couldn't help laughing.  
  
"Who?"  
  
"You know, the Artful Dodger. The Charles Dickens character. Oliver Twist."  
  
"Never heard of him."  
  
Sometimes David forgot the others had hardly read anything beyond the papes they sold. "Never mind."  
  
"Dodger got his name from the way he could always dodge the bulls and keep from getting caught. Anyways, he wasn't the nicest kid in Manhattan. Tough on new kids. When Mush and Blink showed up within a few days of each other, they was in the same boat. So, they stuck together. Dodger couldn't mess with one without messin' with the other. They been like brothers ever since."  
  
Nodding slightly, Dave looked around for his own brother. Satisfied that Les was keeping out of trouble, he turned back to Jack. "So you were here when they came?"  
  
Jack rubbed the sweat from his face and shook his head. "Nah, I was servin' my last month at the refuge when they showed up. I heard about it from Race, later. A couple o' months after I got out, Dodger failed to dodge and got caught by the bulls. The guys voted me leader and here we are."  
  
"So you've been here the longest?"  
  
"Nah, Skittery's been here the longest. Race after him." Frowning in thought, Jack tried to recall how long Skittery had been at Kloppy's. "I dunno how long Skittery's been there, but Kloppman would know. Race showed up at the Lodgin' House when he was about the same age as Les."  
  
Once again seeking out his little brother, David couldn't imagine Les being alone in the world with nobody to help him. "How come Skittery or Race didn't become the leader, if they'd been there longer?"  
  
"Skittery ain't the leader type. He don't have it in him. Race coulda been leader if he'd wanted too. The guys all listen to him, but he's too much of a loner. He didn't want it."  
  
Shrugging, scuffing his boot in the dirt, Jack smiled wryly. "Not that I can blame him. There's days I wished I'd said no."  
  
Wanting to get away from what was heading into a melancholy train of though, David switched gears. "What about Specs and Dutchy?"  
  
Laughing slightly, Jack nodded. "Those two were best friends before they came to the Lodgin' House. They was newsies for a while before they both lost their parents to the flu. Dutchy's got a brother and a couple of sisters living with relatives out in Texas. He and Specs knew where the rest of us orphans lived, so they just showed up after sellin' one night."  
  
Realizing what Dave was getting at with all the questions, Jack looked around at the other newsies horsing around and killing time in the courtyard. "Snaps found Boots cryin' on a streetcorner in Harlem a coupla years ago. Brought him home and taught the kid how to be a newsie."  
  
"Skittery found out that Snitch's folks just up and left him one night. Snitch had been sellin' papes for a few months by then. Skittery brought him to Kloppy's the next day."  
  
So many boys come and gone. So many names and faces. Funny, he hadn't thought about their stories in a long time. Glancing around at the familiar faces, Jack sighed softly. "Itey and Jake just sort of showed up. I think they're both runaways, but I never asked 'em."  
  
"Pie Eater, Crutchy and Snoddy came the same year as Specs and Dutchy, I think, but don't remember for sure. I know Snoddy's parents died in a factory fire, but I don't know Pie's story or Crutchy's either."  
  
And he'd never asked. You don't ever ask.  
  
"It was Race brought us Snipeshooter, if you can believe it. Found him wandering around Central Park one day two winters ago. The kid said his mother was dead and his father had left for work four days ago and hadn't come back. 'Course, Race knew the poor kid's father wasn't ever comin' back. Race's old man had done the same thing. So, he gave Snipeshooter his coat, and brought him to Kloppy."  
  
Looking over at Race and Snipeshooter, now arguing over a handful of marbles, Jack had to laugh. "And they been bickerin' ever since."  
  
"The rest-they all sort of blend together. It's all the same with everybody at the Lodgin' House. You're either an orphan or you're runnin' away from somethin'. 'Cept for a few like Bumlets. His folks are still alive and live right here in Manhattan. Thing is, Bumlets has twelve brothers and sisters and there's so many damn people livin' in that flat that he couldn't stand it. At least with us he gets his own bed. 'Cept in the winter when there's more newsies than usual and we gotta double up. He sees his parents nearly every day and shares his money with 'em. He just likes it better with us, I guess."  
  
Seeing the pensive look on Dave's face, Jack looked his friend in the eye. "Give it time, Dave. You're different. Be grateful for that; believe me. You got somethin' every damn kid here would give anything for. Just 'cause we gave up on it long ago, don't mean we don't dream about it. They'll get used to you, and you'll find your place."  
  
The circulation bell clanged, and Jack climbed to his feet. Wiping his hands on his trousers, he offered one to Dave. Pulling the other boy to his feet, Jack smiled with a world-wise look in his eyes. "In the mean time, kid, stick with the Cowboy. Ya can't go wrong."  
  
Laughing at Jack's audacity, Dave clapped him on the back. "Oh, yeah? Let's add it up, shall we? Chased by the bulls, chased by Snyder, in a brawl at a theater, soaked by the Delancy brothers.should I continue?"  
  
Following the mob of newsies up the ramp to the distribution window, Jack waved off Dave's comments. "A mere technicality, Dave. A mere technicality."  
  
Sharing a laugh with Jack, feeling his little brother press up against his side as they jostled in line, Dave couldn't help but wonder if maybe he'd already found his place.  
  
END 


End file.
